


i'll be there, i'll be waiting 'round the corner

by notthebigspoon



Series: Brandon and Hobbes [2]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:49:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthebigspoon/pseuds/notthebigspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Brandon was called up, he moved into an extended stay motel and refused to tell anyone where he was living. The veterans chalked it up to paranoia, riding his ass and demanding answers. They could get at him any other way but when it came to that, nothing could make him talk. He'd went through enough in his life when it came to his mental state. Hazing was going to be bad enough without adding the fact that he could be considered crazy into the mix.</p><p>Title taken from When You're Evil by Voltaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'll be there, i'll be waiting 'round the corner

The first time Brandon was called up, he moved into an extended stay motel and refused to tell anyone where he was living. The veterans chalked it up to paranoia, riding his ass and demanding answers. They could get at him any other way but when it came to that, nothing could make him talk. He'd went through enough in his life when it came to his mental state. Hazing was going to be bad enough without adding the fact that he could be considered crazy into the mix.

It worked for about a month, as he got to know the other players and took his share of torment. Zito was the most inventive and Brandon learned that he wasn't called Captain Quirk for nothing. The guy was completely off his rocker in the most entertaining ways. Of anyone to test this on, he'd be the person. He'd texted Zito his address and told him he needed to see him before sitting down on the couch to wait.

Zito had come through the door declaring that if Brandon wanted to get some, he had only to ask before stopping short when he saw Hobbes laying in the floor, serving as an ottoman for Brandon's feet.

“What the hell is that?”

“You can see him?”

“Of course I can see him! Kind of fucking hard to miss a big ass cat. Jesus... oh shit, shit, no. Did you _steal_ that? What is it with you guys and reenacting the hangover?”

Brandon rolled his eyes. “I didn't _steal_ him. This is...”

“His best friend. Hobbes. Sit down. Unless you become a tuna sandwich, I promise not to eat you.” Hobbes said lazily, swishing his tail and thumping a paw against the floor.

Zito had obediently parked himself in the arm chair, staring at Hobbes intently before starting a round of twenty questions. Brandon didn't play along, just remained silent and let his best friend do the work. It's easier. Brandon was never good at explaining it and Hobbes was the smarter of the two of them anyways.

When Zito had left hours later, Brandon had walked down to the parking lot with him and leaned against his car, staring at his feet. “I'm, uh, I'm sorry I sprung it on you like that. I didn't know if you would be able to see him or not.”

“S'fine. This is crazy but I can roll with it. What do other people see?”

“They either see a stuffed tiger or they don't see him at all. I don't know how to explain it. I don't understand how he's there and then he's not. Like driving up here when I got called up or when we're on a road trip. I packed him in my suitcase and when I unpack him... well, there he is.”

“Can anyone else see him?”

“One guy in college. Before that, never.”

“Not even your family?”

Brandon's laugh had been hard, brittle. “They thought I was crazy then and they still do. Think I'm being medicated for my _condition_ , delusions and what have you. I stopped pretending he wasn't there, I just. I don't acknowledge it around them, refuse to talk about it.”

“And the chick you're engaged to?”

“She can't see him and I try my best to keep it under wraps. I'm doing okay. So far.”

He'd done okay for a few months. When they'd gotten married and were together all the time, that's when things had gotten difficult. At first Jalynne had found it cute that he couldn't go anywhere without his 'security blanket' but when Brandon couldn't stop talking to Hobbes, she'd gotten angry and then hurt and then scared. When she filed for divorce, Brandon didn't try to stop her. He'd helped pack her things and load the moving truck up.

When she'd kissed him goodbye, he'd turned away because he couldn't handle the way she was crying and apologizing and telling him that if he could get better, maybe they'd have another try. He'd went inside and curled up with Hobbes to do some crying of his own because it was never going to get better. Whether he liked this or not didn't matter, he was _stuck_ with it.

He's kept it under wraps since then. He doesn't know who to trust and who not to, except maybe Buster and that's just because even if he thought Brandon was just crazy, he'd have been understanding about it. Buster and Hobbes get along relatively well, although not as well as Hobbes and Zito. He'd had them both over before the road trip, just to test the waters. 

It had went well, Brandon, Buster and Zito playing Mario Kart while Amber and Hobbes watched Hoarders in the kitchen. Brandon hates to admit it, but he actually gets a little jealous when Amber's over. She's Hobbes's clear favorite. Then again, she always comes bearing a tuna sandwich so that probably has something to do with it.

The first night in St. Louis goes... badly. They're all tired and yet somehow still a little slaphappy. He goes to his room and unpacks, ready to crawl into bed. It's early in the evening and he hadn't even played that day but there's something that goes deep into his bones. Hobbes was snoozing on the bed, he'd been entirely uninterested in hearing about the game. Damn cats and their indifference.

He's freshly showered dressed to be lazy in shorts and a t-shirt when someone knocks. He swears under his breath and pads to the door, opening it just a crack. Affeldt, Cain, and Lopez. He shakes his head. “Not tonight guys, not up for anything.”

“Oooh... does someone have a lady? You can tell us.” Cain asks, waggling his eyebrows. Brandon shakes his head but Lopez is already nudging the door open and peering inside. Brandon sighs.

“That... oh, that's cute.” Lopez grins, stepping past Brandon and moving towards the bed. Brandon is confused for all of five seconds before he starts panicking. It's too late, because Lopez is already picking up Hobbes and tossing him from hand to hand. “Can't sleep without your friend, baby rook?”

“Don't. Don't touch him.... god damn it, Lopez, put it the fuck _down_!” Brandon snarls, charging Lopez and snatching Hobbes away, shoving him back. He might be overreacting, just a little, but that's his best friend and nobody could ever accuse him of being rational when it came to Hobbes. “Get the fuck out. All of you, fucking _out_.”

“Hey, Stamos, we didn't mean anything by-”

“I SAID OUT.”

They stare at him and Lopez has his 'listen here, rookie' face on but Cain must read the manic look on Brandon's face properly because he's nodding and shooing the other two out. Brandon slams the door as hard as he can behind them, double checking the lock. When he turns around, Hobbes has him fixed with a sympathetic look. Brandon lays down, tucks his head into the tiger's side and closes his eyes.

“M'sorry.”

“I've had worse. You worry too much.”

“Don't want people thinking I'm crazy.”

“Well, your Norman Bates impression there probably didn't help.”

“Shut up Hobbes.”

He falls asleep like that, arms wrapped around one of Hobbes's legs, and has nightmares about his family carting him away to the psych ward again. He's never quite gotten over that or forgiven them for it.

When he wakes up, he's sweating and shaking and doing his best not to cry. Someone's knocking on the door again. Brandon shakes his head, wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hobbes bumps his head against Brandon's back before heading into the bathroom and nudging the door shut behind him.

Brandon checks the peephole, sighing in relief when he sees Posey. When he opens the door though, Cain is standing to the side, just out of sight. Brandon gives Buster a look and starts to shut the door but Buster plants a hand on it, shaking his head. “Crawford, wait. Cain wants to apologize. I heard them talking... I explained.”

“You fucking _what_?”

“Look, just let us come in, Brandon. Please.”

Brandon just gives him a look before retreating into his room. He sits on the bed, wrapping his arms around his legs and resting his chin on his knees. Buster sits on the end table and Cain leans against the wall, neither of them talking. That's fine. The silence will be far more discomforting for them than him. If this is a discussion they're going to have, then they can start it.

“Where'd the tiger go?” Cain asks. Brandon glares at him.

“Why? You want to throw him around too?”

“Crawford, I'm sorry. We didn't know it meant that much to you. It's just... Javy wasn't trying to be a dick. He thought what me and Affeldt though, we figured it was just a toy.”

“Well it's not, okay?” Brandon mumbles into his legs. He's tired and the fight is going out of him. He just wants to be left alone. “You don't see me fucking with your stuff so stop fucking with mine. Actually, I wish you'd stop fucking with me period. Sick of this shit...”

“It's a _toy_ , Crawford. Why does it upset you so much?” Cain asks. 

Brandon's ready to lash out again but Buster's hand gripping and rubbing his ankle stops him. He looks up at Cain, who really does look like he's just trying to understand. “It... I can't explain it, Cain. That's... I've had Hobbes forever. And sometimes he was the only thing that kept me from losing my mind. Everybody around me would think I was going crazy but I'd hole up somewhere with Hobbes for a while and it'd make me feel better, make me feel like everything was okay again.”

“So in other words, he's the ultimate security blanket.”

“Ding ding, we have a winner.” Brandon says, humorless. “Going to go tell everybody you guys have a crazy on your hands?”

“Christ, Brandon, he's trying to be there for you. Fucking let him.” Buster snaps. He pulls his hand away and Brandon flinches as if he's been struck. Without some sort of touch and without Hobbes, this situation is just that much more difficult to bear. “Show him.”

“No.”

“Brandon... show him. It's okay, just show him.”

“I said fucking no!”

The bathroom door thumps and there's a scratching noise before it creaks open. Hobbes peers out. He takes in the (probably pathetic) sight that Brandon presents. He pads across the room and climbs onto the bed, which groans under his bulk, and winds himself around Brandon. They settle as they did before, him using Hobbes for a pillow, Hobbes with one paw resting on Brandon’s' side.

Cain, who had slowly tracked Hobbes' progress across the room, just chews on his lip and nods slowly. “Ooookay. Can see why you took offense at Lopez manhandling him.”

“It wasn't that bad.” Hobbes interrupts. “I got put through the washing machine a lot when he was a kid. Would you like The Truth Is Out There speech or did Posey give you the rundown?”

“You watch the X-Files?” Cain asks, snorting in disbelief.

“We did when I was little. It scared the shit out of me.” Brandon interrupts. “He watches a lot of things. You should check out his DVR sometimes. The weirdest shit... Always watching Hoarders with Zito's wife. You're taking this well.”

“I'm freaking out on the inside.”

Well... points for honesty. Hobbes offers to explain it but Cain shrugs it off, insisting he probably wouldn't understand it anyway. He hangs around for dinner, eating pizza and tossing the crusts off to Hobbes, who licks his arm in thanks. He says good night before slipping away. There's a snatch of conversation that floats in from the hallway, someone mentioning that they'd heard about Brandon's 'epic freak out' and Cain saying it was just stress and they should leave him alone for a while.

Hobbes says something about sleeping in the bathroom and Brandon gathers up the extra bedding he'd requested from hospitality, building a nest to Hobbes's satisfaction and patting him before going back into the room and crawling straight into bed. He rests his head on his pillow, staring at Buster and shaking his head, “Tell me this day never happened.”

“Afraid I can't do that. You gonna be okay?”

“M'fine. I know I shouldn't be mad at Lopez, especially if Hobbes isn't, but I am.”

“He was throwing your best friend around, you can be a little mad if you want to.” Buster smiles, rubbing Brandon's shoulder. 

Brandon hesitates, looking around before folding the blankets back and gesturing at the bed. He doesn't know how to ask any better than that. He's never been with a guy, just kissed one in college. He's not quite sure how to do this. Almost as if he knew what Brandon had been thinking, and he probably had since he'd excused himself to the bathroom, Hobbes yells for Buster to spare himself the sad eyes and just cuddle Brandon already.

Brandon turns bright red, refusing to look at Buster even as the catcher climbs into his bed. He just rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in his pillow, waiting until Buster is draped over his back to mumble, “Homicidal psycho jungle cat... god I love him.”


End file.
